


A Not So Cursed Christmas

by hit_the_books



Series: SMPC [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam Winchester, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Christmas in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, POV Sam Winchester, Pining, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Top Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 17:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: This Christmas is just going to be the two of them, and Sam's looking forward to it. He's got the perfect gift for Dean and they're going to be spending some quality time together. It'll be a million times better than one of their motel Christmases... right?





	A Not So Cursed Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Sunday Morning Porn Club](https://smpc.livejournal.com/) and it's my sixth time writing for them C:
> 
> Thanks to [majesticduxk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk) for betaing this one for me.
> 
> Hope you all like it and Happy Holidays <3

Sam’s not going to admit that every single magic shop they have been into while on a hunt of late has seen him looking for something for Dean. Christmas was drawing near and Sam’s kind of desperate to give Dean a little something that will help protect him. Keep him safe, because they have had so little of that lately. What with finally giving Michael the good ol’ heave ho.

There’s just the case of finding the right thing. Sam figured a talisman of some sort would work. He’d liked wearing necklaces in the past and if Sam was being honest with himself, which he rarely was, he kind of missed seeing something around Dean’s neck that was from him. From Sam. Showed that Dean was cared for.

He stopped in front of a glass cabinet and scratched some hands through his beard. The magic-New-Age-Wicca store they’d wandered into, while looking into something to help them track a missing woman, was filled with all sorts of odds and ends. Unless it was a crystal, candle or Tarot card the store didn’t have more than one. The sign of the place being the real deal.

Sam studied the inside of the cabinet. There were a variety of expensive looking items in there. Chokers, rings, bracelets, pocket watches, necklaces and talismans. If Castiel had been there, Sam would have asked him to sense which of the trinkets were the real deal.

“And you’re sure this’ll work during the Full Moon?” Dean asked. He was by the counter, talking with the store owner. A wizened older woman, with a long flowing silver plait that trailed down her back. She wore purple velvet gloves and had the air of someone who was probably even older than she looked. Like several hundred years older.

Turning back to the cabinet, one talisman caught his eye. Hung from a thick black leather cord, the talisman had three circles inside of each other, carved into a circle of silver. There was something about it that made Sam think it would look good on Dean. There was a card beside it, describing talisman as a protective one. But it felt right, Sam thought, as he gazed at it.

“You coming?” Dean suddenly asked from behind Sam.

Sam jumped and stuttered, “In a minute. Meet you in the car.”

“Okay, but don’t take too long.” Dean ambled off.

The hairs on the back of Sam’s neck pricked up and he turned to find the witch who owned the store peering at the cabinet as she stood beside him.

“Good choice,” she said knowingly.

“How much?” Sam asked. It was fifty dollars and Sam paid for it out of his own money, not using a credit card for once.

Neither the store owner or Sam noticed, when the talisman and its fine pine box had been removed, that there was a second card, upturned, right beside where the talisman had been.

***

It was weird having somewhere to have Christmas. The Bunker wasn’t the kind of place that was ever going to look truly homely, but Dean had decided to try for some idea of normality and enlisted Sam’s help in setting up festive decorations about the place during Christmas Eve.

For Christmas Eve and Christmas Day it would just be the two of them, everyone else off on or hunts, or on their own sabbatical for the holidays. Even Castiel and Jack had headed off to spend Christmas with Claire at some ski lodge Claire had gotten a deal on. When Dean and Sam had been asked, they’d both declined citing research they needed to do.

Really neither of them wanted to fall on their asses and break something.

Back at the Bunker, the two of them drank beer and listened to some of Dean’s old records as they worked. Everything felt weirdly normal, domestic, and Sam found himself liking it. He almost felt like the past year hadn’t happened.

“Hey, pass me those tacks?” Dean called from up a step ladder.

Sam picked up a small tub of tacks and handed them up to Dean, totally not taking a moment to appreciate the view. And how the jeans were really hugging all the right places. A blush crept up Sam’s cheeks and he stepped back. He looked around the boxes they’d opened up, everything from the nearest Walmart, and found the artificial tree they were meant to be putting up in this corner. Dean was attaching streamers near the ceiling, getting them up before there was a 7 foot tree in the way.

Okay, so maybe help Dean in getting some decorations up was a bad move. Every other moment was a chance to ogle a part of that forbidden fruit and Sam was trying hard not to linger. Not to creep. Not to look.

“Sammy, you okay?” Dean asked, feet on the floor again.

Sam looked to his brother and gave an awkward smile. “It’s Sam. And no. Just thinking, is all.”

Dean shrugged and grabbed the Christmas tree box pulling it over to the corner in the kitchen where it was going to go up. The streamers ended before they could make contact with the stove.

The two of them worked together, empty beer bottles piling up on the table as they did. When they were finished, the tree did actually look nice, especially with its twinkling lights on.

“It actually looks like Christmas around here,” Sam said, feet hitting the floor.

Dean gave him a short nod, but didn’t say anything. Instead he helped Sam put away the empty decoration boxes.

“Oh!” Sam exclaimed, taking in Dean’s face as he stepped back out of a nearby storeroom. “Dude, your face.”

“What about my face?” Dean asked, alarm growing as his hands went up to check his cheeks and brow.

“Don’t do that, you’ll spread the glitter,” Sam advised, holding back a laugh.

Dean’s eyes widened in horror, mouth opening. “Oh hell no!”

Before Sam could say or do anything to help Dean, Dean stomped off, heading for the bathrooms.

“I’ll get dinner on then,” Sam called after Dean, who threw a hand up in response.

Not that Sam was cooking anything from scratch, just reheating some of the mac-and-cheese Dean had cooked a few nights ago. The mac-and-cheese was, Sam knew, a sign that Dean was trying to make up for a shitty year. He’d decided that he owed some kind of penance. And while Sam might sing high praise about salads and lean protein sources, his favorite food when he wanted to indulge a bit was mac-and-cheese.

Half an hour later, just as Sam was taking the reheated mac-and-cheese out of the oven, Dean appeared. He headed over to Sam and waved at his face.

“Well?”

Sam put their dinner down and scrutinized Dean’s face, trying hard not to be distracted by the freckles there. The glitter wasn’t as bad as it had been. Sam pulled away.

“You’ll live.”

***

“Sammy?”

Sam blinked his eyes open and turned on his side to grab his cell and check the time. It was six in the morning. But that was Dean outside his bedroom door.

“Yeah?” he called.

Dean opened Sam’s door, slowly easing it open and stepped inside. His footsteps were light and unsure, from the hallway light, Sam saw something silver shining on Dean’s chest. The necklace he’d bought Dean and left wrapped up under the Christmas tree before calling it a night. Dean carried a large wrapped gift under his arm.

“Couldn’t you wait until we were both awake?” Sam asked, yawning as he sat up in bed, crossing his legs in front of him. He shivered a little and pulled his bed covers up around himself.

Dean stopped at the foot of Sam’s bed. “Got curious… and a bit excited.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded.

“Here.” Dean placed the gift on Sam’s bed and pushed it towards him. Before Sam could say anything, Dean was crawling up on his bed and pushing the present closer. Then he sat in front of Sam, crossing his legs. Dean’s eyes were bright, almost feverish. He crossed his arms, hands tapping away at the sides of his biceps.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, but didn’t say anything about Dean’s skittishness. He was on edge in a way that said that something was bothering him, but he seemed to want Sam to open his gift so that’s what he did.

Digging his fingers into the paper, Sam opened up the gift to reveal a large, creamy colored knitted sweater. It was soft and looked warm. It was a different gift to the kind they’d bought each other during their motel Christmases, but Sam had been complaining of the cold more and more. Getting older and all that crap.

“T-thank you.” Sam laid the sweater across his lap. He looked across to Dean and found him staring intently.

Sam didn’t know what that look meant, or at least he didn’t when seeing it in the context of Dean’s face. Looking up at him from under his lashes, open mouth, pupils a little bigger than usual—if this was someone who wanted to sleep with Sam, it would make sense. Dean was looking at him like he wanted to get in Sam’s pj pants.

“Dean?”

Dean blinked long and slow, and that was all the warning Sam got as Dean launched himself at Sam, pushing him down into the mattress.

“Dean!” Sam yelped, pushing at Dean’s shoulders. He was a solid weight against Sam, warm and hard.

“C’mon, Sam. Please, I need you,” Dean pleaded, hips grinding down against Sam.

And that was a new one. Without thinking, Sam pushed Dean back with all his weight, landing Dean on the floor to the right of his bed. Sam grabbed his cell from his bedside table and scrambled out of bed, on the opposite side to Dean who was just regaining his feet.

There were some ways that what had just happened in Sam’s bed was something he had been dreaming of for a very long time, but on the other hand Dean was clearly not his usual self. So Sam ran until he was pretty sure Dean wasn’t going to find him for a while.

Catching his breath in the garage, Sam realized he’d brought his new sweater with him and it was freezing there. Pulling the sweater over his head, Sam tried to figure out what might have affected Dean.

There was nothing weird about yesterday, other than they actually put decorations up. A silver gleam came to Sam’s mind’s eye and he realized the necklace was new. But Sam didn’t have the shop’s number on his cell.

Hiding behind some old car Dean had covered in a dust sheet, Sam prayed that he could get signal enough to Google the store. The WiFi signal strength wasn’t great, but the results came back after half a minute. During which time Sam could hear Dean moving around and looking for him.

“I know it’s Christmas, but please pick up,” Sam begged as he waited for the call to connect a cell number. He could try calling Cas, but he was in Colorado with Claire and Jack. No way would any of them make it back quickly.

“Maggie’s Emporium… you know we’re closed, right?” Maggie said. Sam recognized her voice as the witch who had served him.

“I know, but this is kind of an emergency.” Sam stilled and listened out for Dean.

“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked, voice filling with concern.

“Uh, I bought a talisman from you a few days ago. Three rings in silver. Meant to be a protection talisman. Something’s wrong with it.” Sam tried to make himself even smaller.

“Excuse me, my goods are one hundred percent functional at point of sale!”

“Okay, then it’s not what the label said it was. My brother’s wearing it now and acting all weird.”

“What kind of weird?”

Sam blushed. “Like he wants to jump my bones.”

“Oh...”

Sam could hear Maggie shifting in the background. A door opened and closed, and then stairs creaked on the other end.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie started again, slightly out of breath, “but I might have sold you the wrong item.” There was the sound of a hinge creaking—the cabinet being opened.

“And?” Sam prompted.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Maggie replied. “Your brother has a talisman that’s meant to encourage the wearer to seek who they truly desire.”

“Seriously?!” Sam hissed. Though now the witch knew one thing about the brothers other than they were hunters. “How do I, you know… counter it?”

“Ahem, well… It only works if the feelings are… mutual...” she started, “so the simple answer is to, well, allow those feelings to play out.”

Sam groaned. It was one thing to get something he had wanted for a long time, but this wasn’t how he would have wanted it to happen.

“And if I allow it to play out?”

Maggie huffed out a breath. “Then the immediate urgency of the feelings will, in theory, dissipate to a more, how shall I say, manageable level.”

“Right. Well is there anyway of countering it?”

“Not really. Powerful magic made it. And, well you obviously could-”

“Don’t say it.”

“Anyway, I have some needlework to get back to. Happy Holidays.” Maggie hung up.

Sam sat down on the garage floor, ass growing cold, and thought about how to handle his Christmas surprise.

***

“Dean?” Sam called, rubbing his arms through his sleeves as he entered the Bunker proper again.

He padded towards the kitchen, hoping he could at least get a cup of coffee before this happened. The closer he got to the kitchen, the more he could smell the aroma of coffee. Dean had put the coffee maker on.

“Oh, hey,” Dean greeted sheepishly. He was stood beside the coffee maker, a fresh mug in hand.

Sam was surprised by how normal Dean seemed. Then he looked to Dean’s neck and saw that the there was no cord, no talisman.

“So, uh, I figured that your gift may have, made me a little, um yeah.” Dean averted his gaze, a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

Looking to Dean, Sam could still see the odd speck of glitter on his brother’s face as he drew closer. Sam swallowed and picked up a clean mug. He poured himself a cup and sat at the table.

“I called the store I bought it from,” Sam said, glancing at Dean and then looking away. “The owner sold me the wrong one.”

“Ha, no kidding.” Dean sat down opposite Sam.

“But, you should know...” Sam took a deep breath, “those feelings? I have them too.”

Dean said nothing in reply and Sam looked up to find his brother staring at him, eyes wide. He swallowed a mouthful of coffee raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Dean played with his mug, finger running over its lip, over and over. “Good.”

Neither of them said anything else whilst they finished their coffees and Sam was content with that. A truth had finally been spoken.

Once they had finished their drinks, Dean put their mugs in the sink and then led Sam back towards the bedrooms and Dean’s room. His hand was warm and reassuring around Sam’s as they made their way inside, Dean closing the door behind them.

Just a lamp was on, the light low and inviting. Sam pulled Dean close, taking hold of his other hand. He looked at Dean’s mouth, long held back want bubbling up inside of him.

“May I kiss you?” Sam asked.

Dean breathed out shakily. “If you don’t soon, I’m gonna pass out.”

Sam gave a nervous laugh, steadied himself and then leaned in. The press was sweet, gentle. Dean opened his mouth and Sam followed, they both moaned as their tongues met.

“Dammit,” Dean grumbled as they pulled back to catch a breath. “Why’d you have to let it grow out again?”

The “it” was Sam’s beard. Sam chuckled and kissed Dean’s cheek. “Because really you liked it. And don’t say you’re gonna get beard burn—it’s softer than the hair on your head.”

“Bitch,” Dean sniped, no real response at hand.

“Jerk,” Sam shot back and suddenly had Dean kissing him again. It was heady, to feel Dean filling his every sense—tasting of coffee, smelling of his sandalwood aftershave, feeling like heaven.

Longing crashed inside of Sam. Dean unwound his hands from Sam’s and pulled at the sweater he was wearing. Sam allowed himself to be undressed in-between kisses, doing the same with Dean. As their kisses became more heated, the faster their hands worked. Heat pooled low in Sam’s body and the moment his hardening cock was free he gasped as Dean pushed against it, his own length pressing against Sam.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked as they made their way to his bed, trying not to trip as they kissed and hands started to wander.

“Yes.” Sam had never been so sure before. When Michael had taken Dean, Sam had lost all hope of some day having this.

“Good.” Dean tumbled the two of them into his bed, Dean winding up on top and bracketing Sam in. They kissed and rubbed against each other, the friction on that sweet pleasure-pain border heating Sam and making him want more.

“Mm, D-Dean, please,” Sam begged as he caught his breath. “Want you.”

“You got me,” Dean reassured. He kissed Sam’s bearded cheek, moved to his bedside table and grabbed a tube of lube out of the partially open drawer.

When Dean’s slicked index finger pressed against Sam’s hole, he whimpered and let out a long shuddering breath. He didn’t want to sound so needy, but he had been in search of this for so long that he couldn’t help it.

“Is this okay?” Dean checked in again.

Sam met Dean’s eyes. Concern and need mixed together. They’d done so much together and to each other, but this was different and so much more. “Yes,” Sam said, pushing a little against Dean’s finger. “Yes.”

Leaning on one arm, kissing Sam, Dean worked him open. Fingers stretching Sam open piece by piece until finally he could start to take Dean’s slicked up cock. The two of them rocked together as Dean slowly eased into Sam. The full press of Dean was hot and heavy—Sam stroked himself, opening himself to Dean as they kissed and connected.

Dean bottomed out and they held their breath for a second then finally breathed. Sam reached up to Dean’s face and stroked a hand down it. Dean’s arms quaked as he held himself up, not moving in case it was too soon. The weight and heat of Dean promised that Sam would see stars and he wanted to see stars. Sam braced Dean with his arms.

“Fuck me,” Sam whispered.

A strangled sound clawed its way from the back of Dean’s throat and then he pulled part of the way out of Sam, hips shaking and thrust back in. In and out. Each time a little harder, a little more determined.

“Dammit, Sam,” Dean groaned as he pushed harder, cock pressing in, making Sam pant and leak pre-come from his tip. “So… fucking right… for me… Made… for me.”

“Want you,” Sam repeated, body singing each time Dean pressed into him.

“You got… me.” Dean’s hips started to pump erratically, his breath coming faster, little whines just there at the back of his throat. Sam knew Dean was close, because he’d heard those forbidden sounds so many times during long, lonely nights.

Shifting, Dean reached one hand down between them, taking hold of Sam. He squeezed and pulled, hand sliding through the pre-come that had been dripping from Sam as Dean fucked him. He tried to move his hand in time with his hips and he almost had it, whiteness crawling at the corners of Sam’s vision as Dean treasured him.

“Dean!” Sam gasped as finally the switch inside him flipped and his vision became stars and whited out. He shot strand after strand of come between their bodies, coating Dean’s hand and their stomachs.

“Sam!” Dean moaned, hips stuttering as he followed Sam, hot release filling him.

The whiteness faded away and the bedroom returned to Sam. He watched Dean gently pulled out, leaning over Sam and kissing him sweetly before finding something to clean them with. A minute later, Dean came back with a washcloth and wiped the two of them down.

Sam watched as Dean tossed the cloth towards the laundry basket in his room. Dean missed the basket, but that didn’t matter. Opening his arms and pulling Dean back down into bed, Sam kissed the top of Dean’s head as he pulled him back into his arms.

“Now,” Sam yawned, “you woke me up… a-at six in the morning. And I-I w-want more sleep.”

“Tsch, fine,” Dean half-heartedly grumped. He pulled the covers over them and slung an arm around Sam’s waist.

But they were both yawning and the rest of Christmas Day could wait. Though Sam would probably try to find Dean a new gift soon.

“I love you,” Sam murmured as sleep found his sated body.

“Lo-ve yo-u too,” Dean said, muffled by Sam’s chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on Pillowfort at [dreamsfromthebunker](https://www.pillowfort.io/dreamsfromthebunker), Dreamwidth at [hit_the_books](https://hit-the-books.dreamwidth.org/), Tumblr at [hitthebooksposts](https://hitthebooksposts.tumblr.com/).


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